


Making Up

by HiddenTohru



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-20
Updated: 2010-07-20
Packaged: 2017-10-10 16:56:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/101985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenTohru/pseuds/HiddenTohru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the choices Laeti made at Redcliffe, Alistair feels it necessary to share his opinions rather forcefully, and Zevran attempts to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Up

**Author's Note:**

> My very first DAO fanfiction, so a bit rough. This was originally written in January 2010.

“Well, FINE!” Laeti screamed at the templar, her face going an uncharacteristic shade of deep red. “I don’t CARE what you think! It was my choice, you told me to make it, it isn’t my fault if you didn’t like the results!”

Alistair was also turning a deep shade of red as his anger rose within him. “I thought you’d make the right one! Sacrificing Isolde was definitely not the right one! You broke their family, we could’ve gone to the Circle – “

Laeti clenched her fists, willing herself not to punch the man in front of her. “Oh, yes, because it’s perfectly fine to leave a castle full of people in mortal danger while we traipse off to get help from a tower that’s THREE DAYS JOURNEY AWAY.”

“… WELL WE COULD’VE AT LEAST TRIED. INSTEAD OF RESORTING TO THAT… THAT…”

“OH, JUST SAY IT ALREADY! _BLOOD MAGIC!_”

Alistair sputtered, too angry to continue, and his face was rapidly approaching a dangerous shade of purple. Before he could continue, the enraged elf turned and stormed out of the tent, snapping the fabric as she went, which was about as close to slamming it as she could get. Alistair was dumbfounded by her behavior, but he stubbornly turned his back and resolved not to follow her, at least not until she came back and apologized.

\--------------------------------------------------

Laeti paced restlessly beside the clear pool outside the camp. She had retained enough sense to check if there were any darkspawn around before leaving the camp, but she was too angry to settle down. She grabbed her knife and threw it at the trunk of a nearby tree, pretending that the satisfying thunk was a darkspawn’s chest instead of living wood. Only a moment later she felt deep regret that she’d harmed the tree in her anger, and hurried over to retrieve her dagger and try to seal the wound with her woodcraft.

“Well, he certainly knows how to get under your skin, no?”

Laeti whirled around, knowing before seeing that he was leaning against a nearby oak. Zevran smiled his little smile, and she relaxed only slightly. “What do you want, Zev?”

The other elf shrugged and crossed over to a large flat stone near the edge of the pool. “I simply wanted to make sure you were all right. That was quite the screaming match, and not the good kind either.” He leered, making sure she knew how often her nights in Alistair’s tent were overheard.

She blushed and frowned. “Well, I guess it was too loud to not be overheard. I just… I don’t even understand him sometimes.” Without conscious thought, she went to the stone and sat down next to the other elf. “It’s like he just… knows which buttons to push.”

“Ah, a common side effect of… close relationships. You quickly begin to learn the other’s weaknesses.” He smoothly slid a hand around her shoulders, comforting and warm in the chill air.

She leaned into him slightly and sighed. “I suppose. I just… I wish he wouldn’t take it out on me when things go wrong. It’s not like I have any better idea of how to go about this Grey Warden thing than he does. Even less, really.” She rubbed her tired eyes. “It was only two weeks ago when Duncan recruited me… So much has happened since then…”

Zevran gently stroked her shoulder. “Indeed. Darkspawn, assassins, abominations, demon-possessed boys… It is too much for one to shoulder alone.”

Laeti closed her eyes as she leaned into his warm body. “Yes. I just wish I felt like he trusted me…”

Zevran whispered in her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “I trust you, my lovely Grey Warden. You have done what you felt best, and more often than not come up with the right decision.”

Laeti opened her eyes, but she felt lost in his warm golden gaze. “I…”

Before she could continue, he covered her mouth with his, his kiss warm and inviting, his tongue so expertly playing at the corners of her mouth, so very different from…

\--------------------------------------------------

Alistair felt his jaw clench as he watched this idyllic scene. He hadn’t trusted that slimy elf since Laeti had first decided to spare him, and now all his suspicions were apparently well-founded. The anger he’d felt at Laeti only minutes before had been consumed by a green flame of jealousy, burning hotter than anything he’d felt since learning of Loghain’s betrayal. He wanted to shout at them, to go and grab her and take her away, but he felt rooted to the spot, unable to move even to object. Maker’s breath, how long could they continue without breathing?

\--------------------------------------------------

Laeti reached one hand up, almost melting into the kiss as it went on, but then she found herself pushing the other elf away. “No. This isn’t right.”

Zevran smiled, used to that kind of behavior from his conquests. “Shhh, it is all right.” He moved in again, but her hands were firm against his chest.

“I said no. This isn’t right. You’re very attractive, Zev, but… I love him. I can’t do this to him.”

The golden-skinned elf raised an eyebrow. “And who says he ever has to know?”

Laeti shook her head and stood up, backing away as if from a trap. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t.” She rushed off, back toward the camp, realizing as she went how very much it hurt, how much she wanted to see her beloved for real comfort.

\--------------------------------------------------

The ex-Templar could practically feel the weight easing off of his shoulders, the flame was subsiding. Almost too late, he realized what might happen if she returned to the camp and found him gone. Without hesitation, he hurried back to the campsite to see her.

\--------------------------------------------------

Zevran smiled to himself and hummed a little tune as he stood up off the smooth pondside rock. Perhaps he should make his bedroll up near the dwarven caravan tonight, otherwise he might not get much sleep. He continued humming cheerfully as he sauntered slowly back to the camp.

\--------------------------------------------------

Laeti stopped next to the campfire and looked around in confusion. Alistair was nowhere in sight. The stoic qunari gave her a sideways glare and Wynne waved at her from a bit away, but the templar was nowhere to be seen. She was about to go to his tent to see if he’d gone in early when she felt a gauntleted hand on her shoulder. She smiled and started to turn. “Ali-“

He was kissing her before she had time to finish even his name, and her surprise melted almost as quickly, as she reveled in the feel of his lips, so familiar and warm to her now. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders as the kiss deepened, and somehow, intertwined as they were, they made it back to the tent (Laeti thought, or perhaps she imagined she heard, Wynne tsking quietly behind them) and were shedding their armor when she remembered what she’d come back to camp for.

She pushed him away for a moment. “Wait, Alistair. I need to tell you something.”

He shook his head and covered her lips with one finger. “It doesn’t matter. We were both wrong. But I… I love you.” He pulled her close again, whispering it over and over against her neck, her cheek, her ear, in between delicious soft kisses.

“Ah, Alistair, I… Oh!” Her last conscious thought was wonder at how quickly a man could learn who’d been a virgin not so long ago, and then the rest of the night was a hot blur of sweat and slick skin and cries of ecstasy.

\--------------------------------------------------

The next morning, Alistair whistled a bright tune as he set about making breakfast. He was the first one up, although he couldn’t have slept more than two hours, but he felt full of energy and ready to go slaughter an entire horde of darkspawn.

“Up late last night, hmm?” Zevran grinned as he came up behind the ex-Templar, and Alistair scowled in response.

“I have nothing to say to you, el- assassin.” Alistair continued cooking the bacon, just about the only thing he could cook without burning, but felt the blond elf’s eyes boring through the back of his skull. He turned around. “Do you need something?”

Zevran shook his head and grinned. “Just wanted to ask if you found makeup sex as… invigorating as I always have?”

Alistair sputtered, turning bright red, and the blond elf narrowly missed a hot pan of bacon in the face as he dashed away, snickering.


End file.
